Alternative Fairy Tales: Cinderella
by Rug
Summary: There's a ball at the palace, but Cindy would rather be doing her homework ...


Disclaimer: As ever, I don't own the original version of this fairy tale, and whoever does is probably long gone by now. And apologies to anyone else whose name or brand I've used: Marilyn Manson, Reebok, the BBC, God, etc. 

A/N: This is dedicated to all my reviewers (especially Sicily!). I really appreciate it, guys! And may I apologise in advance to Dido for using asterisks; I'm still not sure how to do italics. :) 

CINDERELLA   


A long time ago (ie. 1996), in the town of Anville, there lived a teenage girl by the name of Cinderella. Cinderella, or Cindy as she preferred to be known, lived with her generous stepmother an two beautiful stepsisters. One Thursday in April, the three girls were sitting playing monopoly. 

"Park Lane," Anneliese announced. 

"Oh, that's mine. £35, please," Cinderella yawned. 

"Oh, come on, Cindy, show a bit of enthusiasm," Anneliese complained. "Why are you always so glum?" 

"I don't really see that there's anything to be excited about. I've got nothing to look forward to, have I? Once I've done these exams, I'll end up with a boring job somewhere, being lorded over by some guy who doesn't give a damn about my interests as long as he's making money. Men!" 

Anna, the second beautiful stepsister, gave an elaborate and exasperated sigh, which Cinderella ignored. She knew how much her stepsisters liked to show off. 

The computer in the corner of the room, having been left on all night by Cinderella's less-than-economical stepmother, suddenly announced in a hollow voice: 

You've Got Mail. I Don't Know What It's About, But It Doesn't Look Very Exciting. 

Anna immediately leapt up. "That'll be for me ... it's probably Tom," she giggled. 

"Oh, please," Cinderella began, but before she could get any further, Anna had let out a loud squeal. 

"Ohmigod ... it's from the palace!" 

"Ohmigod, let me *see*!" Anneliese shrieked. 

"'To all residents of Anville ... There will be a ball at Opulance Palace this coming Saturday, held in honour of Prince Ignacious, who happens to be looking for a future bride. Anyone is welcome to attend, but priority will be given to young women aged 16-24 inclusive, for practical reasons. In anticipation of your attendance, Opulance Palace officials.'" 

"Ohmigod! That's us! We're going to see Prince Ignacious ... and he is like *so* dreamy!" Anneliese gushed. 

"I can't believe it!" Anna concurred. "This is so cool!" 

Cinderella excused herself, and headed for somewhere she would be safely out of earshot of her sisters' excited gabblings. "Typical," she muttered to herself. "Absolutely typical." 

"What's typical?" asked her stepmother, appearing round the corner. 

"Will those two ever grow up? " Cinderella muttered by way of an answer, and disappeared to the relative solace of her bedroom to listen to her Marilyn Manson records. 

Come Saturday evening, the two beautiful stepsisters were in a fever of excitement. Cinderella looked on despairingly as they braided each other's hair, perfected their make-up and tried on every outfit in their wardrobe, ultimately selecting the ones they had put on in the first place. 

"How do I look?" Anneliese asked eagerly. 

"You look wonderful," Anna assured her. 

"Yes," Cinderella said dryly. "All you need now for the perfect ice-cream sundae look is to have a little umbrella sticking out of your head." 

Anneliese glowered at her. "No-one asked you, Cindy," she muttered. "It's not like you look a million dollars yourself. You can't wear jeans and a sweatshirt to a ball! And you're not even wearing any make-up!" 

"Why should I? It's nothing but a male-imposed infliction, and I'd rather be my own person than a victim of society, thank you." 

Before Anneliese and Anna had time to think of a reply to this, the stepmother came into the room. 

"Ready, girls?" 

"Well, *we* are ... I'm not sure about Miss Misery Guts over there." 

"Cindy, hurry up, we've got to go now! Oh, and, did you ever finish the vacuum cleaning?" 

"I haven't had time!" 

"Cindy, I asked you yesterday evening! I want you to get it done, please, and you're not going to the ball until you have." 

"Like I'd want to go anyway," Cinderella sniffed. "Prince Ignacious has always struck me as being a few bricks short off the full palace, and all he wants is a load of pretty girls so that he can form a relationship based on outward appearances. How shallow can you get?" 

"Why do you always have to be so cynical?" 

"I'm not cynical, I'm just the only one around here who can see through this thinly-veiled attempt to get the prince married off to the first bimbo that comes his way. In any case, I've got some Maths coursework to finish." 

The stepmother raised her eyebrows. "If you say so ... well, I'm taking the others now, so we'll see you later." 

"Okay, bye." 

Cinderella spent the next quarter of an hour quite happily devising an algebraic formula, and was just getting to the crucial stage, when a woman's voice proclaimed out of nowhere: 

"Fear not, Cinderella!" 

Cinderella gasped, and turned around to find a woman in a glittering white dress, with purple wings and a tiara, standing before her. 

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" she exclaimed. "And who the hell are you, anyway?" 

"I am Pristeena the Perfect. Your fairy godmother." 

Cinderella raised an eyebrow. 

"Seriously! I am!" 

"Since when do I need a godmother?" Cinderella demanded. "I'm an atheist!" 

"Really?" 

"Yes. I think it was the story about God creating woman out of a rib that did it, although there were other factors." 

Pristeena was unfazed by Cinderella's ironic tone. "Regardless of who I am, my dear, I come bearing good news. I'm here to make sure that you *shall* go to the ball!" 

"I don't *want* to go to the sodding ball! Can't you see I'm doing my homework? This has to be in by Monday! Prince Ignacious can take a running jump off a cliff, as far as I'm concerned." 

"But he's so handsome! You'll like him!" 

"Oh, please ... credit me with some integrity! I don't judge people by their appearance, and as Prince Pinhead doesn't really have much else on offer, I think I'll pass." 

"But you can wear these," Pristeena coaxed. She waved her wand, and out of nowhere appeared a pair of dainty shoes. She held them up for Cinderella to see. 

"Are those made of perspex?" 

"Glass ... these are glass slippers, made to fit you exactly. I think they'll really suit you." 

"I'm not wearing those!" 

"Whyever not?" 

"Well, for one thing, they're rather naff, and for another, shoes made of glass are a hazard. I could stub my toe, and end up hospitalised with shards of glass in my foot! I'll stick with my Reeboks, thanks." 

"But you can't go dancing in those!" 

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm - not - going! Do you want me to write it down for you?" 

"I can do some more magic for you," Pristeena pleaded. "I can get you anything you want ... a pretty dress, some nice jewellery ... I can even get you a coach, if you've got a pumpkin." 

"A pumpkin? It's the middle of April!" Cinderella exclaimed. "In any case," she added, "if I wanted a coach, I could look one up in the Yellow Pages. But I won't. I'm staying here." 

"There's nothing I can do for you?" 

"Apart from pissing off and leaving me to get on with my work, no." 

"Fine then," Pristeena said huffily, and disappeared in a puff of smoke. 

Cinderella finished her work, went quickly round the house with the vacuum cleaner, and then sat back in front of the TV. It wasn't often she had the house to herself. She sipped one of her stepmother's beers, as 'Idiots of Britain: The Game Show' came on. However, after watching this for some minutes she could feel her IQ slowly slipping away, so she flipped the channel, just in time to hear the voice over saying: 

"And welcome back to 'The Prince's Ball: LIVE from Opulance Palace!'" 

Cinderella almost changed straight back again, but then she thought, *I might see Anna or Anneliese. It'll be a laugh.* 

The TV showed a picture of what looked like several hundred young women all doing some strange version of the macarena. The prince and his parents, the King and Queen, looked on from the Royal box. Cinderella could see Anneliese's flaming red hair near the back of the screen, and on TV she looked more like a dessert than ever. Anna was next to her, blushing furiously; she'd never liked the idea of being on TV. The whole spectacle was so boring that Cinderella almost switched off ... but then the Prince came down from the Royal box, and started to mingle among the dancers. *This could be interesting,* she thought. *I wonder which one he'll choose ... I bet it's a blonde.* 

The Prince danced with many girls, always followed by dozens more, all screaming like pop groupies. When the romantic music came on, however, all the other girls stood back as the Prince led a shapely blonde to the centre of the ballroom. 

"Thought so," Cinderella muttered. "How predictable. Typical man." 

She switched the TV off in disgust, and went to bed. 

The following morning, Anneliese and Anna stayed in bed for as long as possible, having returned in a taxi at around 2am. Cinderella, however, got up bright and early, in order to make sure that she got the last of the cereal. 

"I saw you two on TV last night," she said to her stepsisters, as soon as they could drag themselves downstairs. "It doesn't look like I missed much." 

"No, it was cool," Anna insisted. 

"Yeah, wicked," Anneliese agreed. "Much better than doing Maths homework, or whatever it is you were doing." 

Before an argument could ensue, the stepmother, with impeccable timing, as ever, called; 

"Hey, girls! There's a news report about the ball!" 

"Ohh, are we in it?" squealed Anneliese, as the three girls entered the front room. 

A news reporter was standing in front of the palace. "This is where the ball took place last night," she was saying, "during which Prince Ignacious met what he believes to be his one true love. However, she disappeared without a trace, leaving behind just one clue: a stiletto. The price will be travelling around Anville with his assistants, asking girls to try on the shoe, and whomever it fits best will be his bride this summer. This is Eva Geneva, BBC News, Anville." 

Cinderella snorted. 

"What?" Anna demanded. 

"I'm sorry," Cinderella said, "but I just find that extremely amusing. I mean, he says he loves this woman, yet he can't even know what she looks like, if he has to determine who she is by her shoe size! How much of an idiot can you be? He should go on 'Idiots of Britain: The Game Show'." 

"You're just jealous!" 

"Of whom? His girlfriend? I don't think so! I *pity* her. I only hope they've got some deodorant for that shoe after everyone's tried it on ..." 

Cinderella burst out laughing at the expressions on her stepsisters' faces. 

The next day, there was a knock at the door. The stepmother opened it. "Girls! It's for you!" 

Anneliese and Anna came bolting down the stairs, with Cinderella following behind at a more casual pace. 

"The Prince Ignacious!" announced the man at the door, blowing a swift fanfare on his trumpet. 

The Prince came through the door. Anneliese and Anna both went into furious blushes. Cinderella nodded coldly. 

"Err ... yeah ... you're supposed to be trying on the shoe," the Prince faltered. 

"Me first! Me first!" Anneliese squealed. She followed the prince and his trumpeter into the sitting room, sat down on the sofa and stuck out her foot. 

The prince placed the shoe onto Anneliese's delicate foot, but it was much too big by anybody's standards. She scowled, and Anna smirked. 

The process was repeated for Anna, but the fit was even worse. 

"Okay, okay, you've completed your pointless exercise. Hadn't you better go now?" Cinderella suggested. 

"But ... we haven't tried it on you yet!" the trumpeter said. 

"Me? I wasn't even at the ball!" 

"An order's an order, Miss. Foot out, please." 

With a look of extreme exasperation, Cinderella lifted her foot, and the prince slipped on the stiletto. *This isn't a bad fit,* she thought. Then, the implications of this hit her like a bucket of icy water. 

*Damn.* 

"It fits!" the prince exclaimed. "Will you marry me?" 

"No!" 

"Why not?" 

"Think about it," Cinderella reasoned. "Do I *look* like the girl you danced with on Saturday night?" 

"But ..." the prince said bemusedly, "... the shoe fits you. That means we're getting married." 

"Listen, Ignacious," Cinderella said gently, "Choosing who you're going to marry is a very big decision. Are you sure it's wise to base it on shoe size?" 

The prince was silent. 

"My advice would be to wait a few years," Cinderella went on, "until you find someone you actually love, and whose basic facial features you can actually remember. Do you understand?" 

"Yeah, I guess. Well ... goodbye then ..." 

With that, the prince and his trumpeter took their leave . 

Cinderella breathed a huge sigh of relief. "*That* was a close one." 

"Are you mad?" Anneliese demanded. "The most attractive man in the kingdom just asked you to marry him, and you said no!" 

"If you're that surprised, you obviously don't know me very well," Cinderella said calmly. "If you'll excuse me, I've got some homework to finish." 

Cinderella went on to gain a degree in Mathematics, Anneliese and Anna started their own chain of clothes shops, and Prince Ignacious is still looking for a bride ... anyone interested?   


THE END   
  
  
  



End file.
